


Guitar Man

by Ashkenna



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Crying, Cuddles and Netflix, Fluff, Homelessness, I'm sorry Zack, M/M, Michael's the lead singer for some reason, Zack's not even mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:58:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3831247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashkenna/pseuds/Ashkenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Clifford is a hopeless, homeless runaway who plays for money on the streets, he never actually thought he'd get anywhere with his worn down guitar and picks, but he was relentless, and it pays off. </p>
<p>Alex Gaskarth is the photographer who notices Michael and posts him on his rather famous blog. Giving him the fame he needs to boost his career, and Michael was the person who made his life just a bit brighter.</p>
<p>They need each other and couldn't see themselves any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guitar Man

New York was not the place for Michael. Thus was learned quickly, Michael just didn’t fit in, he was a wimpy Australian dude with blonde and blue hair, an eyebrow piecing and an old, denim shirt. He didn’t very much look like it, but he was homeless. The money he did have and save up went towards cheap food and maybe some new clothes. He didn’t last long in New York, but he refuses to go to a shelter. Makes him feel like his father won, that he was right and Michael couldn’t have that. So he wondered from one place to another, being a rebellious teenager with a guitar. Sometimes someone would be generous enough to pick him up, others would let him take up in their stores, giving him unneeded food and drink. 

Michael woke up in a bookstore, with a kid staring at him, though the window, big brown eyes stared. He smiled at Michael, waving at him. Michael, laughing, waved back at the curly haired kid. The kid smiled happily, before his father came up, glaring at Michael (And probably the tattoos and the piercings). He picked up the little kid as he waved Michael goodbye that Michael returned.

He sat up, looking at the girl who owned the store and smiled at her. “Morning.” He yawned, stretching out, popping muscles on his back. It was an old bookstore, with some rather nice looking books on the shelves, but Michael couldn’t possibly spend his money on useless things like books. The girl, Cassadee, handed Michael a muffin.   
“Good morning.” She said, smile on his face. “I’m sorry ‘bout the window seal. It can’t be very comfortable.” Michael shrugged, unwrapping the muffin.  
“It’s better than the ground, though.” He laughed, and Cassadee smiled as he took a bite out of the muffin. Michael got up, stretching his legs and pulling his guitar and its’ case back over the shoulder of his denim jacket. He came over to Cassadee, swallowing the muffin down. “Thanks.” He raised his hand to the owner. 

“Here.” Cassadee gave him a rather light backpack. “You’re welcome. See you again, sometime soon?” 

“Probably not soon, but you’ll definitely be seeing me again.” Michael tossed the backpack over his other shoulder. “Bye, Cass.” He said, walking out as Cassadee returned the goodbye. And thus began another day of scouting out, though today it might be a bit easier seeing to it that it was a Saturday and most of the generous people were at the park during Saturday mornings. 

So Michael headed over there, to the flourishing park. It had just turned to spring, and the leaves were beginning to grow back, along with some Cherry Blossom trees that were spread out, lining some paths with pinkish white flowers. Michael sat down on the green bench, setting the backpack beside him and putting the guitar case in front of him. Holding the pick in between his lips, he plucked a few chords, making sure it was still tuned before he went on to start playing. 

For some odd reason, he was earning a crowd as the day went on, his guitar case was earning dollars and coins. They crowded up and some little kids sat down. Teenagers sang along and adults watched over their kids. As late morning turned to early afternoon, the crowd thinned out and Michael finished another song. He put the worn guitar pick with the others in his pocket. The children sitting ‘awed’ as Michael began to pick the money out of the case. “I’ll be back in a bit, don’t worry. Even guitar men need a lunch break.”   
Michael smiled. The children scattered and Michael continued picking out the coins from the bottom, when a wad of rolled up twenty dollars landed in the case. 

Michael looked up, making sure that someone didn’t accidently drop it in there (though that was a slim chance). Instead of seeing some business man passing by, he saw Alex Gaskarth. Camera around his neck and smile on his face. Alex Gaskarth was, for those poor, poor, uneducated people out there, a photographer for musical artists. Michael’s eyes were drawn to the money, then back to Alex. He looked back and forth until he tried to decide what to say first. He had to be staring at Alex for a good minute or so. The man leaned down and handed the roll of money to Michael. “I’m Alex.” He said as he placed it in Michael’s hand, and god damn, did Michael feel like an idiot right now. “And that’s the money that is rightfully yours.” 

Michael opened his mouth to get nothing out. His tongue laid useless in his mouth. “What?” He finally got out. 

Alex laughed. “I took a picture of you a few days ago, and that’s the money I got from posting it on my blog.” 

“O-oh.” Michael looked at it in his hand, biting his lip before pocketing it and reaching out to Alex. “I’m Michael.” Alex shook it, smiling. 

"You’re really good.” Michael smiled, face going red. 

“Thanks.” Michael said, putting away his guitar in the case and closing the clasps. Alex stood up with him, walking as he walked. 

“You think I could take you out for lunch like, today, or tomorrow or sometime?” Alex asked, having to force out his words and Michael looked to him, making sure this wasn’t just some prank. That there was no chip in his ear where he was receiving orders from Jack or something. 

“S-sure. Yeah. I guess.” Michael said, and the smile that Alex gave made him want to curl up in a ball and die. Because, yeah, sure, there band dudes that were pretty hot, don’t get him wrong, he’d definitely fuck Josh Dun if given the chance, but this was Alex Gaskarth. Michael’s had a crush on him since Year 10, and now he’s asking to take Michael out to lunch. “I mean, it should probably be today, because you—you know, might not find me on Sunday or, uh, something.” 

“Yeah, yeah! Totally. So, uhm, where would you like to go?” 

“I’m not really a local here, I don’t know any place besides McDonalds, to be honest.” 

“In that case, there’s a burger place not far from here.” Alex suggested and Michael nodded. He hadn’t had a good burger in months, and McDonalds was getting old. As they walked, Michael pushed his hands into his denim jacket, playing with the wad of cash that Alex had given him. “I-I hope you don’t mind me taking a picture of you.” Michael looked over, tilting his head, because why would he have a problem with that? The money he’s earned today is the most he’s made in weeks. “It just kind of looked like you could use some light shined on you. You’ve just—you’ve got some real talent on that guitar of yours, and you’ve got a really good voice.” Michael’s face is tinted pink, with a dopey smile on his face and he swallows down the fan boy that wanted to come out and nodded.

“Thanks.” He said, struggling so hard not to jump up in victory and shout because Alex Gaskarth, said he had a good voice. A man who works with millions of bands every year, said that Michael, of all people has a good voice. This was the best day of Michael’s life. “I—I don’t mind the pictures, by the way. It’s a real honor to even be on your blog.” It’s a ‘real honor’. Damn it. It’s a picture, not a medal of fucking honor. It’s not like you’re shaking hands with the president. Michael thought, mentally face palming himself because now he sounded like a nerd. Or an actual fan boy, Alex laughed as Michael’s face was just getting redder and redder.

“That’s nice of you to say. Not a lot of people can say that.” They entered a 50’s diner themed restaurant, and Michael sat across from Alex, guitar placed under the table with his backpack. Michael didn’t want to say anything. He just didn’t. He wanted to shut up and not embarrass himself more, but he couldn’t just have a stare off with Alex. This was a once in a lifetime chance, it’s like meeting the person you’re going to be with for the rest of your life. You only get one chance and if you fuck it up; it’s your fault. “So I was thinking that I could feature you on my blog more often… Possibly my YouTube account?” 

“Like, videos of me… Singing?” No, videos of you painting a fucking masterpiece. Yes videos of you singing you daft idiot. Alex just laughed, nodding as a waitress came up in a white apron and pink dress. Michael smiled at her, trailing down to the menu to order, when Alex took over. 

“Two Butterfinger shakes, please.” He smiled, and the waitress nodded, walking off as she wrote it down. “Have you ever had a Butterfinger milkshake?”

“What—what’s a Butterfinger?” Alex’s face dropped and he grabbed Michael’s hands frantically.

“You poor, poor, under privileged child. Has the world gave you nothing good in life?” Michael was about to say not really, meaning it literally because he’s a runaway teenager who ended up on the streets, sucks at guitar and just happened to catch the eye of a rather famous photographer. He is the epitome of pitiful stories. He has no clue what to expect with Butterfingers either, that apparently adds on to it. 

“No, not really. What in the world is a Butterfinger?”

“It is heaven covered in chocolate, blended and thrown on ice cream.” Alex explained and Michael thought for a moment what it could possibly look like. “Well, not usually, but you get what I mean.” 

“No. Not really, if I’m going to be frank.” 

“Well, you’re not, you’re going to be Michael. It’s a candy bar, under privileged child, a candy bar made up of who knows what, but covered in chocolate and delicious.” Michael laughed at the dramatics of Alex calling him an ‘under privileged child’. Alex let go of his hands, patting them and opening the menu. “You will learn soon, child. Soon.” 

Michael gave a breathy chuckle before opened his. Everything looked good to him, honestly, but he just really wanted a burger. A good, quality burger that tasted like the ones at home, though none will be as good as his father’s, they could try. They had to be better than McDonalds, at least. When the waitress came back, she held two glasses and metal cups, and if Michael was going to be honest he was about to cry, because even if he didn’t know what the hell a Butterfinger was, he sure knew what a Milkshake was and loved them. 

He, however, restricted himself from delving himself into a delicious milkshake and gave his order to the nice waitress, then he delved into his milkshake. Alex laughed, almost choking on his milkshake as Michael’s straw fell loose from his lips. He looked up to Alex with the look of a three year old who tried a chocolate chip cookie for the first time in his life. “Do you like it?” Alex managed out. The face of pure joy was probably the cutest thing he’s seen ever. 

“Butterfingers are amazing.” It didn’t help Alex’s laughing, but soon enough the kid stopped being so damn cute enough for Alex to get on what he was talking about previously, not the Butterfingers but the YouTube and photos thing. Alex cleared his throat, making Michael look up from the milkshake as he was still sipping on it.   
“So, back to the advertising thing. That last time I did it, it was kind of illegal.” Alex explained. “I didn’t have your consent. Hell, I didn’t even have your name. So I kind of need to know a few things now that I do have consent. Are you old enough to give me consent?” 

“Are you asking me how old I am?” Michael asked, smiling as Alex chuckled.

“For work purposes.”

“I’m nineteen… For work purposes.” Alex laughed, nodding and looking off at his hands.

“I kind of need ID.” 

“I kind of don’t have ID. I’m not a citizen of these here states.” Alex looked up at him skeptically, before Michael rushed to add on, patting himself down. “I mean, I’ve got my passport…uhm, somewhere.” He picked up his guitar case, laying it on his lap and opening it slightly to find the blue passport in a side pocket. He pulled it out, pushing it towards Alex, biting fully over his lip as he placed his guitar case down and Alex opened up the little booklet. The little booklet of Michael’s whole future. He really needed this gig, maybe he’ll actually get noticed for once. Perhaps he’ll actually prove his father wrong. Oh, how sweet of a victory that would be. 

“It’s expired.” Alex said, looking up from it before looking back down, Michael’s lungs froze in his chest. “Not that it matters, but it is.” Michael held his hand to his chest for a moment, taking deep breaths, because he was literally almost scared to death there for a moment. Alex, once again, laughed at Michael as he passed the passport back. It seemed like today was the day that Michael was making a fool of himself. He took back the passport and pushed it into his denim pocket. “I also need a phone number to call.”   
“A phone number?” Michael asked, he thought back and remembered that someone had stolen his old IPhone long after it had broken and Michael had lost the charger. “I don’t have a phone, really.” 

“You don’t have a phone?”

“No…” Michael trailed off. “It broke a while ago.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, sure. That’s fine, do you have an email, or something?” 

“No…” Yes. But since Michael’s computer got lost in baggage claim and was never found and his phone broke, he had nothing to check it on. He could just imagine all the spam he had in it. “It got deleted a long time ago.” 

"Do you even have an address that I could send to?” Alex looked concerned now, and Michael stayed silent. His face was going red, because no. He didn’t. “Michael, are you—are you homeless?”

Michael nodded, biting his lip to hide the embarrassment of the reminder of his dumb mistakes. He was a dumbass rebellious eighteen year old with a guitar and ambition to prove his father, his teachers and everyone who doubted him wrong. He bit his lip more harshly as he felt the tears trying to come. He was not crying in front of Alex Gaskarth. He just wasn’t, he couldn’t. He was. He was having a tear run down his face as Alex Gaskarth stared at a homeless kid. A stupid, dumb, homeless kid and Michael will be damned if he ever has a more embarrassing moment than this. His hand moved up to his mouth to prevent ugly sobbing. 

Alex grabbed his other hand, gathering Michael’s teary-eyed attention. “Do you need a minute, Michael? Are you okay?” Michael didn’t trust opening his mouth, releasing the clenching of his throat to hold back the sobs. He just nodded, Alex kept a hold of his hand as the waitress came with the food. She looked concerned, looking over to Michael, and Alex shook his head, with a ‘no, you shouldn’t ask’. She walked off and Michael took a deep breath, swallowing and taking his hand away from Alex’s. 

“I’m sorry about that.” Michael said, looking down at his food. 

“It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with crying about something like that.” Alex said. “Besides, it doesn’t change anything about our deal. In fact—“ Alex took a napkin from the table and pulled a pin out of his pocket, he began to write on it, when he finished he handed over the napkin. Michael sort of smirked at the handwriting of it, that wasn’t necessarily neat, but not messy. “That’s my address and my phone number. If you can make it to my apartment weekly, or monthly it’d be appreciated and just call me at a nearby payphone when you want to do a gig or something.” 

“Really?”

“Hell yeah, really.” 

\-----------

Alex left after a few pictures of him playing in the park, and perhaps a video, but Michael might never know. It was starting to get dark, and as the crowd cleared, Michael was putting away his guitar again, counting the money for the day. He pushed it all into his denim pocket, looking at the cryptic night. It was too late to get into any generous persons home, or sneak into any store. (Besides Walmart, maybe, but there was a serious lack in New York City) Michael sighed, thinking it might have to be another night on a bench. He pushed his guitar under his bench, pulling the backpack that Cassadee had given him to his head, as it turns out; it had something in it. Something that was puncturing Michael’s damn skull. Michael pulled up, looking at it for a moment before opening it, finding some clothes, jeans, T-shirts. Nothing that could be pointy enough to poke Michael in the head. Then Michael spotted it. A shiny, golden key with something tagged to it. 

Michael pulled it out, in messy blue sharpie the paper read If you ever need a place to stay. –C.P 

Michael got up from the bench, holding the key tightly and picking up his guitar case. He slung both the guitar case and the backpack around his shoulder. He started to jog to the book store. Cassadee was still there, stocking books. Michael knocked on the door, making her jump. She turned to the door and smiling seeing Michael. She came over, opening the door. “Michael? I thought I wasn’t going to see you in a while.” Cassadee joked. 

“I was still around…” 

“Come in, then. I was just about to lock up, head upstairs and get some dinner ready. You wanna come with me?” Michael smiled, nodding a bit. Cassadee let him inside, placing his guitar case down and lead him to the upstairs studio apartment. A single fan was in the middle of it, and a window that looked to the outside night streets was backing a messy, old bed. There was a small splash of tile where the kitchen was. Overall it was a nice place. It smelled like vanilla. “You can uh, lay down on the futon or wait ‘till dinners ready. Or something…” Michael looked at the couch, or futon, and he nearly collapsed on to it. It looked so comfortable. He looked back at Cassadee who smiled, motioning to the couch. “Be my guest.”

He came over to the futon, unfolding it, taking the pillows under it and putting them on the top of it. Calum was such a nice guy. God bless Cassadee. Michael came into the mass of big, comforters and pillows, straightening them out just to wrap himself up in a burrito. It took him a few minutes to go to sleep, but when he did, he loved Cassadee.

\---------------------

Michael woke up to the sound of guitar being played, he yawned, stretching out in the sunlight like a cat in a window seal. He looked over to see Cassadee, sitting on the dining table, playing a happy little tune on her guitar. Michael sat up from the bed, and Cassadee looked over at the creaking of it. She smiled. “Good morning, Michael.” 

“Morning.” Michael got up from the bed, stretching his legs. He walked over to the boy, sitting down in the wood chair. “You know guitar?” Cassadee nodded, continuing her happy little tune. Michael looked at the time, the green little numbers on the clock that spell out eight o’clock AM. He then looked back at Cassadee, who was focusing more of his guitar than anything else. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Nope, Rian’s back today and he said he wanted to take over.” Rian? Who the hell is Rian? Michael thought, he leaned back.

“Who’s Rian?”

“I swear I told you about Rian.” Cassadee stopped playing, looking at Michael with scrunched eyebrows. “Rian’s my boyfriend who I own the shop with. I swear I already told you this.”

“You didn’t. I promise. I imagine he’s okay with this?”

“No, actually, he isn’t. You have to sneak out the window.” Michael looked at her seriously, even though Cassadee was smiling at him. Cassadee laughed, giving a heavy, playful hit to Michael’s shoulder. “I’m kidding. He knows, he’s fine with it. Hell, he’d be fine if I let a fugitive in.” Cassadee put away her guitar and placed it on the floor. She laid back in the yellow light. “Just that kind of guy, I suppose.” Michael smiled, then got up, about to walk over to the couch to get his denim jacket. As he picked it up, a hand turned him around. “Hey, uhm, if you’re still coming around tonight, Rian and I are probably going to be out for dinner, so you should keep the key.” Cassadee handed him the key that Michael didn’t know he handed to her the night before.

“It all depends, I suppose.” Michael said, pushing it in his pocket. He walked down the stairs to see who he can only assume to be, Rian. A rugged look to him, with the stubble and short, messy hair. He looked up at Michael, frozen, the smiled, putting his hands at his hips, laughing as he came over; if Michael was going to be honest, he reminded Michael of an anime character. “You must be Rian.” Michael raised his hand out for Rian to shake it. 

“Yeah, that’s me. You must be Michael. Leaving so soon?” He asked, pouting. 

“I might be back later…” Michael trailed off.

“Well, doors open to you, whenever you need it.” Rian smiled at Michael and Michael smiled back, nodding and picking up the guitar case with the backpack of clothes. As Michael was about to step down the stairs of the very townhouse looking bookstore, Rian turned him around. “It’s not an empty offer, I hope you understand, you can come here any time you need somewhere to stay.”

“Yeah. I understand, Rian. I couldn’t have thought it as an empty offer anyway.” 

“And uh, here.” Rian handed Michael another muffin. “Cassadee’s a great baker.” Rian laughed and Michael did too along with him. The banana nut muffin smelled awesome, and Michael told Rian to thank Cassadee as he walked away. He ate away at the muffin, scouting out the day, it seemed murky, which was odd, since just in there it was broad daylight, but now the light was covered by dark clouds. He ignored it, but stayed close to the bookstore, started to strum away on his guitar. He didn’t gain that much of a crowd or earn that much money, a few dollars, not before it started raining and Michael was caught in a downpour, putting away his guitar. It couldn’t be that late, maybe the rain would clear up later on. 

Michael put away the money and his guitar up in its’ case, the money in the pockets of the case and shoving his pick into his pocket. He picked up his things and came to the side of the bookstore, he wondered if he was over staying his visit, two nights, Michael decides, is enough to over stay a visit. It was just supposed to be a one night thing. He didn’t really need a place to stay anyway. He turned himself around, walking away from the bookstore. He could find a restaurant of sorts and hide up in there until the rain stopped, or maybe a Barnes and Nobles, hole up in there for a few hours and get himself a coffee from Starbucks. 

He did too, doing a few songs on his guitar before being asked to stop. He did because, yeah, it’s not really the place to earn a profit, unless you’re an author. They thanked him and he went over to the Starbucks to get a coffee. He curled up in a corner booth with a coffee and a cookie, that’s where he fell asleep too, since, of course, you could never get enough sleep. 

\----------------------

A few weeks after Barnes and Nobles and Starbucks, Michael made his way to the address that Alex had given him. It was to an apartment building, Michael came into the entrance and pressed the button to the number. The speaker came on a few minutes later. “Who is it?” Alex’s voice came through.

“Uhm, Michael.” Michael hitched up his guitar case.

“Michael… Michael… Oh! Oh. The guitar man.” Alex recognized, and the door unlocked, letting Michael into a stair room, Michael headed up to the third floor, knocking on Alex’s door. Alex answered, pulling on a shirt with a smile on his face. “You’re probably here for the money.” Michael nodded. “Come in, then. I have it laying around somewhere.” 

Michael laid his guitar and the backpack down on the floor before taking off boots that were so worn they had several holes in them. Michael really needed to get new ones, but he just couldn’t bother himself with it. He sat down on Alex’s couch, looking around at his apartment. It was nice looking, if not anything else. White walls, with carpeting and a kitchen with granite counters. “You know, I was actually expecting you sooner than this, so I had all the money stacked up a week ago…” Alex’s voice traveled to the living room as he came from the hallway with some money. “Fifty dollars, maybe? I don’t really know, it’s close to that, anyway.” He handed Michael the money, looking up at him skeptically it was fair, after all, Michael wasn’t looking the best. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his old denim jacket was a bit torn at its’ back. He hadn’t changed his clothes for three weeks, so they were a bit dirty and Michael couldn’t imagine how his face looked. “Are you feeling okay, Michael?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Michael shrugged it off, pushing the money into the back pack. “Thank you—“

“You sure you don’t want to stay the night, or something?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Michael said, tugging the backpack over his shoulder with the guitar case.

“Actually, Michael.” Alex stopped him from getting out of the half circle of couches. “It’s going to be dark soon. You should probably stay here for the night.” 

“Alex, it’s only three o’clock—“

“Let me rephrase that sentence; it would make me a lot more comfortable if you stayed here.” Alex said, his hands on Michael’s shoulders. His eyes were genuine, looking at 

Michael with a mix of pity and worry. “Please stay here for the night, Michael.” God, why must Alex’s pressing gaze crush Michaels’ willpower so much? It’s because he’s Alex, obviously, but it’s still a question Michael wonders as he sets his guitar down in defeat, and as Alex hugged him. “Good.” Michael quirked his eyebrow as Alex pressed him to his chest. “Go. Take a shower, you’re dirty as fuck.” Michael rolled his eyes as Alex stopped hugging him. He emptied his pockets, the golden little key still there with a couple quarters. He took off his jacket, letting Alex take it from his hands. “You can use the one in my bedroom.” Alex added and Michael nodded, turning to what he believed to be Alex’s bedroom. He hoped it was anyway. 

He stripped down outside the bathroom door and came in, looking at the rather large bathroom. Alex must get paid a damn lot being a photographer, wither that or he’s running a drug business on the side. Michael turned on the hot shower water, climbing into it. Savoring the slight sting of the touch of the water. He began to wash himself off, generously using the shampoo and conditioner on his hair, lord knows it’s greasy as fuck. The blue streak has probably faded out with the bleach, he might be a blonde again. Who knows? 

When Michael got out, a towel was laid on the toilet seat, probably set there by Alex, though Michael didn’t hear him come in. Michael looked at himself in the mirror, chapped pink lips and tan lines from where his denim stopped and his shirt collar started, very slight in the difference, but still noticeable. His hair had grown, which, if his mom were here, she’d be hysterically happy, since he was losing his hair before he left. However, his hair was a bit long for comfort, getting just below his chin. It had faded back to blonde. What made Michael worry a bit was the slight dent where his ribs would be. He couldn’t have not ate that much, his hipbones didn’t show, but Michael did notice the weight loss as he dried himself off. He came into the bedroom to see clothes set out. They were rather big on Michael, him having to tie up the sweatpants big, when he came out, Alex was nowhere to be seen from the hallway. 

Michael looked in the living room, beginning to believe that Alex had left him, until he heard a crash from the kitchen. Michael looked in, making sure that some Final Destination shit didn’t happen to Alex. But no, Alex had just tripped, and pans landed on him, but he’s perfectly okay. Hopefully. Michael leaned down to him, raising an eyebrow at the laughing man. “Help me up, you dick.” Alex got out through chuckles. 

Michael pulled half-heartily, helping Alex up, moving pans away. Alex laughed, putting away most of the pans and the one left out was a sheet pan. “I forgot, I have to do a livestream. I promised the kids on Twitter. If that’s okay with you…” 

“That’s fine as long as I don’t have to be in it.” Michael said and Alex frowned.

“But Michael… The kids enjoy you. They think you’re cute.” 

“I highly doubt-“ Alex pressed his finger to Michael’s lips, giving him a ‘shush’. 

“Don’t make me pull up my Tumblr. They think you’re cute.” Alex laughed, not being able to stay serious anymore. “I can’t say I disagree.” Michael’s face dropped, his cheeks going red. Alex laughed, making Michael give a dopey smile. He took his finger off of Michael’s lips, he laughed. “But fine, fine. However, if so much as your hand comes into the screen, I will personally pull you in and make you talk.” 

Michael laughed, turning at his heel. He laid down on the couch. Crossing his arms behind his head, he closed his eyes. He heard Alex talking to his computer, trying to ignore it. He was actually doing the exact opposite, he was listening to every sentence. Trying not to laugh when he makes stupid jokes, of drops something and laughs at himself. Michael remembers watching Alex’s stupid livestreams in the comfort of his own home. “Oh, Michael?” Alex asked. “Someone asked about Michael. He’s actually ignoring me right now.” Michael smiled, chuckling as he felt Alex’s glare over his way. “He didn’t want to come out on live stream, probably because he just got out of a shower. But also because he doesn’t want fans and he’d rather be looking at his eyelids than talking to me.” 

“I will throw this fucking pillow at your face, Gaskarth.” Michael said, picking up the nearest pillow. 

“I doubt that. You think my face is too beautiful to hurt it.” Michael flicked him off and Alex laughed. “Michael Clifford is the new guy that I’m sponsoring, for those who don’t know. He’s a dick and I’m thinking about stopping it.” He laughed as Michael threw the pillow at him, hearing a satisfying thump of the pillow to whatever part of the body he hit. 

“See? Absolute dick.” 

After that, they didn’t talk much, Michael still chuckled at Alex loosing stuff. Dropping cooking utensils. Then he called for Michael. “Mike! If you could, get me the flour from the pantry.” Michael has no idea what Alex was doing cooking whatever he was, but Michael got up anyway. Going to the closet pantry and walking up to Alex with it. Michael handed him it, wondering for a minute why he was giving such a shit-eating smirk. “I win.” He said, rubbing Michael’s hair. “You have to stay.”   
“I hate you. You little shit.” 

“Then can you help this little shit roll out the pizza dough?” Pizza? Alex was making pizza? Michael laughed, nodding and helping Alex with the pizza dough. He bunched up the edges, forgetting that he was on livestream for a bit, making conversation with Alex as he got the pizza sauce and the cheese. It was just about bands, if he was going on tour with anyone soon. Alex said that he was going with PVRIS in a month or two on their tour. Alex brought the computer over to the table from the counters as the pizza cooked. He nudged Michael, winking. “I told you, they think you’re cute.” Michael rolled his eyes, nudging back playfully. He sat down, watching as Alex answered questions from the fans, with genuine enjoyment. Michael smiled at him, longing to be as involved as he is with his fans. He just needed to get over his damn anxiety, or at least tough through it. It’s just not that simple. “Michael!” Alex turned the questionings in a 360 degree angle. “Michael, you should perform a song.”

Michael didn’t politely refuse or shout no, because these were actual people watching him live, he just shrugged. “Sure.” With a weak voice. He went over to get his guitar, and while getting it out, Alex came over. He looked at Michael with worried eyes. Why did he always have to be so worried all the time?

“You don’t have to, I was just kidding.” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Michael said, shrugging it off.

“Listen, Mike, if you don’t want to… You don’t have to.” 

“I’m fine, Alex.” 

“Michael.” Michael looked up. “Don’t worry.” Alex gave a reassuring smile that Michael needed. He got up from his crouching position. Sitting in front of the computer once again, he looked down at his guitar, thinking of what he could sing. He positioned his fingers over the strings. He started strumming, just for a test and looked up at Alex, who looked like an absolute fucking child. Excited and anticipating Michael’s song. Michael laughed, shaking his head as he looked back down. He began to play, singing along to the song. He didn’t dare look up at the reminder of the thousands of people watching him do this. When he finished, Alex clapped, making Michael laugh even more. 

\---------------

After the delicious pizza was done, and ate. The livestream was over with a falling Alex, and a small burn on his hand from being a dumbass and thinking he could take the pan out without a proper oven mitt. Now they sat on the sat on the couch watching some horrible Indie horror movie, rather closer than Michael’s comfort zone was willing to accept. Alex wrapped his arm around Michael as Michael slowly eased into it. He gave a smirk as he came into Alex, putting his head on Alex’s chest. He was half asleep, but Alex was constantly shifting under him. “Hey, Mike.” Alex said, his chin setting up on Michael’s head. “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you stayed here all the time.” 

“Then I wouldn’t get any money, ‘Lex.” Michael said. “Besides, I couldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?”

“It’d be overstaying a visit.”

“But what if—what if you lived over here while I was away? Looked over the house for me?”

“It’s an apartment, not a pet.” Michael shrugged off.

“If I got a cat, or a dog? What if I paid you to look after them?” Michael looked up to Alex, his face coming to level with Alex’s. Not even uncomfortable of how close they were.

“Why do you want me to stay here so much?” 

“Because I’m concerned.” Alex answered honestly. “You look so much worse than when I last saw you, and I just want to help.” 

“You’re doing all you can, Alex. I can’t just move into your house.”

“Who made you think that? It’s quite obvious that I am offering it up.”

“You’ll get sick of me. Everyone does at one point or another.” 

“Shut up.” Alex grabbed Michael’s hand. “Shut up. Michael, you don’t deserve to think that. No one does. I don’t get sick of people. I won’t get sick of you, you’re Michael. Some puny Australian homeless dude, and I don’t find one reason to get sick of that.” Michael’s never met his idols, he’s gotten chances, but always neglected to in fear that he might be too annoying, might be the one that accidentally shoves his IPhone in his idols face and gets bashed on Tumblr. Or the one that accidentally grabs his crotch or her ass. He’s never experienced his idol telling him things like this, saying that he’d never get sick of him. Complimenting his music. It was a bit overwhelming. He fell forward on to Alex with tears in his eyes. 

He doesn’t want to, but he can’t choke back the sobs of his remembrance of his father, kicking him out until he found a real job without that ‘dumb guitar of his’. The ‘friends’ that had made him move from friend to friend as he went to job interviews. The ones that made him think they were sick of him, his father who made him think his whole family was sick of him. 

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael, one hand rubbing up and down his back. Michael swallowed back his sobs, no one likes ugly crying messes on their couches, especially not well paid photographers. Michael wiped his tears away, taking a deep breath. Alex gave a breathy laugh. “Do I always make you cry or somethin’?” Alex wondered. “Maybe I should stop talking…”

“No, no.” Michael laughed a little too. “I’m just over emotional.”

“Nah, you’re just a person. Everyone’s emotional.” Alex gave him a smirk, wiping away a final stray tear on Michael’s face. “You just show it a little more.” 

“Thanks.” 

“For everything?” Alex guessed the cliché, and Michael broke it.

“For being you.” Criminal Mind quotes never fail or let Michael down. Criminal Minds, in general never lets Michael down. Alex smiled, giving him a playful hit to the side. Michael chuckled, falling back to Alex’s side, curling up. He fell asleep just before the movie ended, not being that good of an ending, people died, and the bad guy got caught. Nothing that big, but Michael’s legs had become hooked around him. Alex was about to get up, that’s when he noticed the blonde koala hooked to him. Alex slowly unhooked the legs and his arm from his waist. He picked up the sleeping man, with little struggle, which worried him, because Alex was in no way fit to pick up another human being.   
Alex laid down Michael in the guest bedroom, because laying him down in his own would be weird. He fell asleep in his own bedroom, deciding that he was definitely getting a dog, if it would keep Michael in a house for the majority of the time. 

\--------------------

Waking up, Michael’s denim jacket was setting beside him, along with folded skinny jeans and some new Vans sneakers, which looked a bit big for Michael’s feet. Michael got up, looking around and spotting a note on the bedside table, in Alex’s handwriting. Hope you wake up early, guitar man. Get dressed in that shit in your back pack. We’re getting a puppy (or kitten, possibly?) I’m naming him Rover and you’re going to watch over him while I’m on tour with PVRIS and other random bands. Michael was about to protest to a letter, then he realized that it’s a letter and you can’t protest to a letter. Alex Gaskarth that little shit. 

Michael got on the clothes, walking out to a wolf whistle that oddly didn’t sound like Alex. He jumped, earning a laugh. “Don’t scare him like that, Jack.” Alex came from the kitchen, and Michael glared at him, because he really had to go and get Jack Barakat to get a pet? Or was he was just getting Jack Barakat to annoy and embarrass Michael? Either way, Michael was glaring as Alex. He didn’t dare look over to get choked up over a retired tour manager. “I made pancakes!” Alex Segway-ed to something completely different, dragging Michael into the kitchen. “He’s here to discuss tour, don’t worry, he won’t be here long.” Alex gave Michael a plate with small pancakes on it, eggs on the side. 

“Oh, yeah, because I am so excited for pet shopping.”

“I want a puppy.” Alex said, leaning back into his chair. “A Bull Terrier, maybe?”

“I have a pet toy poodle at home.” Michael said, making Alex laugh. “His name was Federer.” 

“So, one, it was a ‘he’ and two, his name wasn’t Fluffy?” Alex asked, and Michael nodded. Alex shook his head, laughing and patting Michael’s head like a father to his son. 

Michael raised an eyebrow at him, as he walked off. “I’ll be back in a few. Wait here.” Michael nodded, not that Alex could see it. 

Now, Michael’s not usually the one to eaves drop, but- okay, let’s not kid here, Michael’s a snoopy little bastard who loved to nose in on other people’s business, and he just wanted to hear what they were talking about. If it was nothing to hide, it was nothing to hide, Jack and Alex were friends; and Michael just wanted to hear what friends talk to each other about. Specifically these two friends. He leaned a bit to the wall. “Jack, please. You know people.” Alex said, and there was a sigh. 

“Alex, I said, I’ll see what I can do for the band. I can’t promise anything.” 

“But you can help—“

“But I can help. If they make it, they make it.” There were footsteps and Michael went back to his eggs, poking at them. The door closed and Alex came into a kitchen with a smile on his face, his persona a completely new one from the one previously heard. He clapped his hands together.

“So, you ready to go get a puppy?” He asked and Michael smiled, nodding and putting his dishes in the sink.

\------------

The search for a puppy failed, because there were no Bull Terriers or any dog that Alex really loved at the pet store, but on the way back to the apartment, there was a lost little orange tabby on the side of the street, it could only be a couple weeks old, and it was so tiny. Michael spotted it when they were waiting for a taxi. It was covered in muck, its’ fur was matted but it was wailing, and while Alex was cursing the poor taxi service in New York, Michael picked it up, it almost fitting in the palm of his hand. He smiled at the little guy and came over to Alex, patting him on the shoulder. Alex looked at Michael, annoyed until the kitten was presented to him. “It’s so cute! Awh!” Alex took him from Michael’s hands and smiled at him. “I’m going to name you, uh.” Michael looked at him with Alex, both their eyebrows raised. They were dumbfounded on what they should name the blue eyed kitten. “Maybe… Richard?”

“Richard? That’s a horrible cat name.” Michael said, taking him out of Alex’s hands. “If we name him Richard, Jack might start calling him Dick.” 

“Point taken, but what do you think we should name him?” 

Michael broke out laughing. “Alex Gascat.” 

“Hell no. If we’re making a pun it’s going to be Barakitty and I’m not giving Jack the fucking satisfaction.”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s go home, clean him off and get him something to drink. Then we’ll name him.” Alex raised his hand again and waited for a taxi, which actually came after about five minutes. Alex kept the kind of scared kitten in the inside pocket of his jacket. When they brought into Alex’s apartment, they started to run warm water in the sink. They poor kitten tried to claw and scratch at Alex’s hand as Michael washed it off with soap, getting the dirt from the streets out of strikingly orange fur.  
Michael was drying it off as Alex was heating up the milk in a pan. He received a phone call whilst pouring it into the bowl. Answering it and holding the phone in between his shoulder and his ear as he picked the bowl up. “Wait, seriously?” Alex asked, freezing in his place, Michael figured it was about the band they were talking about this morning. “Holy shit-“ Alex dropped the bowl, it clanked to the ground, spilling most of the warm milk. “That’s amazing, Jack. I’m—I’m actually going to have to call you back for the details.” 

“What was that about?” Michael asked, setting the cat down. Alex looked at him with the biggest smile on his face. 

“I got you a gig!” 

“What? Seriously?” Michael stood up and Alex nodded. 

“But—“

“But? There’s a ‘but’ in there?”

“Yeah, I kind of lied to Jack… I said you were a band.” 

“What? How do you expect me to find a band?” 

“I was actually hoping you had one…”

“Alex if I had—Wait. Wait, I do have one.” Michael looked to Alex who had a smirk to his face. “I need, I need a phone.” Alex handed him his IPhone and Michael scampered off, while Alex sat down next to the cat. Michael went to his room and tried to remember Luke’s number, typing in the best he could with shaky, excited fingers. He was tapping his foot, hoping Luke, being the idiot he was, didn’t have to get a new phone or something. 

“Hello?” There was that confused little idiot that Michael loved.

“Luke!”

“Sh-Shit. Michael? Where the hell are you?”

“I’m in New York right now, I have amazing news.”

“You actually got somewhere with that guitar of yours?” Michael could almost feel the smug little smirk on Luke’s face. 

“No. We got somewhere with this guitar of mine. Listen, I met Alex Gaskarth and he started to sponsor me. He went as far to call Jack fucking Barakat to get me a gig, but he lied saying that I was a band. So I need you, Ashton and Calum to all get your asses over here in the US and bring your guitars.”  
There was silence at the end of the line, then a few sounds before there was another person on the line. “Michael, are you serious?” Calum’s voice came through. 

“I wouldn’t be calling you guys if I wasn’t serious.”

“We don’t have enough money for that. Do we?” Calum asked Luke with the response of ‘no’. 

“I’m sure I can manage something. Give me a minute.” Michael came out, and it was a bit of a push for his luck, but he looked at Alex. Who was smiling at him, raised eyebrows. 

“They can’t exactly pay for tickets over here.”

“That’s fine!” Alex took the phone to move it closer to himself. “Listen, kids, I’ll pay for your tickets, I’ll book your hotels. You can’t just miss out on something like this.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really get your asses over here. You’ve got two weeks.” 

“We—we’ll be right over!” They hung up the phone with their goodbyes and Alex stood up, picking up the cat.

“So, now that that’s done. We’ve still got this problem to handle.” Michael laughed at the sleepy kitten sitting in Alex’s hands. Michael rolled his eyes and set him on the couch, looking towards Alex, who was smiling cheerfully as he put the bowl in the sink. Michael came over, pulling him away. 

“Thanks. You really didn’t have to do all this.” Alex smiled, laughing. 

“You deserve to be recognized for what you are, Michael. You’re amazing.” Michael’s cheeks went red as Alex came closer to him. Michael was hardly amazing, wasn’t anything close to it. If you asked him, he would say so anyways. “You really deserve this. All of it.” They were just inches apart, if Michael was watching this as a movie he’d be the guy screaming in his head for them to kiss, his mind was like a movie theater, with only Michael in it, screaming out loud that they should just fucking kiss. His mind also controlled him, and what he did without thinking about it. His mind sucked at being a mind. 

They were lip locked in a matter of seconds, and Alex was kissing back. Michael was about to faint, this has been a seriously overwhelming hour for him. Alex pulled away, smirking at the surprised Michael. “Really amazing.” Alex nodded, assuring himself.  
\--------------------

Michael can remember the band that he had. They were all losing faith in the You Tube plan. It wasn’t the best plan in the first place, but Michael was completely faithful to it. He didn’t notice the others slipping away from it until the band meeting at Luke’s house. Michael trudged over in the heat of the summer. He came in with a smile on his face, thinking it was just going to be a normal band meeting and they were going to fool around, play some songs and throw stuff at each other. He came in to frowning band members instead. His smile faded and he sat down on the couch across from them. “Michael, we’re not really sure how to say this…” Ashton said.

“Michael, we’re stopping YouTube.” Luke blurted. “It’s clearly not going anywhere and we need to get on with our lives.” 

“What?” Michael looked at Calum who brought out a piece of paper. Michael picked it up and stared as he read. It was a college acceptance letter. “Calum? Guys? Did you all…” They nodded and Michael stood up. “Why? If we let this get to us then they all win. Our teachers, our parents. They all win.”

“Michael, you can’t honestly keep up this rebel phase, if ‘they win’ they win. We’re in a losing battle and we can’t just upload videos for the rest of our lives.” Ashton said, and honestly Michael was about to be in tears, he thought that they were getting somewhere with it. He thought that they wanted this too. “We’re moving on, maybe you should too. Give up the guitar, the dark clothes. Grow up some.”

Michael’s face hardened and he turned towards the door, in anger and in sadness. “Fine, you three become the epitome of normal people. Go to college, get a family business and fade out into the crowd. I won’t stand for that. I’m not growing up, and I’m certainly not giving up on my dreams.”   
\-------------

Michael had his hair cut, it was at least decent, back to its bleach blonde and blue splatter. He wore a band shirt and nice black skinny jeans, the crowd was the biggest he’d ever performed and he was shaking, his hands were sweating as he looked out at them. The boys were waiting for the queue of getting out, and Michael could only think of how much they might hate them. His cheeks had been bitten raw, he was about to move on to his lips, but he couldn’t do that. He was doing everything to calm himself down. 

He went back to the couches, where the rest were, making small conversations about how awesome this was, how Michael was amazing. Michael just laughed and nodded adding ‘or Alex is partially deaf’, to which Alex slapped the back of his head. They joked around, and when Jack came in, shouting about getting on stage. Michael’s feet felt stuck to the floor as he stood right behind the stage. A guitar was strapped around him and he was trying to even out his breath. Alex scaring him didn’t help. “Don’t worry.” Alex said. 

“They’re going to love you. Whether it’s for you, or for your music, maybe both. They’re going to love you.” Alex gave him a peck. “I know I do.”

“I love you and your cliché ass too.” Michael said, going out on to the stage and smiling at the crowd that screamed for him. “Hi guys! I’m Michael, that’s Luke, Calum and Ashton, and we’re Five Seconds of Summer!”  
\--------------------

A few years later, Michael’s sitting with his band, Alex sitting next to them, Vic, from Pierce The Veil and Kellin from Sleeping With Sirens are up on stage hosting. They’ve finally made it to the APMA’s. They’re about to announce the Album of the Year award, the one that 5sos was nominated for. Michael’s foot is tapping against the ground because while he really wants to get the award, he knows if he does he’s going to freak out way too much and cry. Someone hands Vic the envelope, and Kellin reads it. “And the winner for the Album of The Year is…” Michael was about to fucking die, his heart was held so tightly in his chest. “Five Seconds of Summer!” Michael jumps up, cheering with the crowd and his band. They hug each other before going down to the stage. 

They all say a thank you to the fans while they hold the award, then are giving personal ‘thank you’s. When the microphone is open to Michael, he smiles, laughing with tears in his eyes. “I want to thank my boyfriend, Alex, I would still be playing on the streets if it wasn’t for him!” Michael came back to him, earning a kiss. 

“I love you.” Alex said.

“I love you too.” Michael leaned his head to fall on Alex’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Alex just barely gave a tilt to Michael, to see the dumbass smirk on his face. “For everything.”

“You cliché son of a bitch.” Alex whispered, laughing.

What Michael and Alex had, it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t anything near it. They had arguments over petty things, and sometimes Michael would have to sleep alone in that old, guest bedroom. The kitten, Brynjolf, always had to switch rooms throughout those nights. They were away from each other a lot, but never missed a single important event for their relationship. They always worked it out, they always found a way around anything to get to each other. Some nights they might even be sure it wouldn’t work out, but at the end of the day (or, possibly, week) they’re back to cuddling and calling each other stupid names, adding on an ‘I love you’ at the end. 

Michael wouldn’t be anywhere without Alex, and he most certainly wouldn’t be happy on the streets alone, and Alex could never be happier with anyone else besides Michael. They might not work in the future, but who knows? For now, however, as Alex’s hand was firmly holding Michael’s sweaty one in a hot room full of band members and friends of band members, they were working, and they couldn’t picture working with anyone else but each other. 

Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but for now, it was amazing.


End file.
